Fifty Ways To Say Goodbye
by BourneUnicorn
Summary: A Boy Meets World Continuation after the series finale. It skips a few years ahead [after the prologue] to follow the lives of Shawn and Angela. What happens when the reunite for the first time in years? At such a bad time, in such an awkward place. It's unexpected, fast, and crazy. How will this all play out? Will include appearances from almost all the characters.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

_My heart is paralyzed, My head was oversized. I'll take the high road like I should. You said it's meant to be... That it's not you, it's me. You're leaving now for my own good..._

Shawn bit his lip, watching as Angela popping hugs from person to person. Tears decorated everyone's eyes. Shawn sat on the opposite end of the room from her, on the arm of a couch. He folded his hands in his lap, eyes cautiously watching her like... she was a deer. One false move, and he could scare her away. Sure, she was already leaving, but... he didn't want to do something wrong and ruin their relationship, even if they weren't gonna see each other for a year.

Finally, the dark-skinned girl approached Shawn. He stood up and looked straight ahead to meet her eyes. A reason he always liked her was because of her height. Angela was never taller than him, nor was she too much shorter. They were always about the same height.

She offered a feeble, teary-eyed smile. Shawn tried to return the gesture, but he had basically lost all feeling and was completely numb. Was he smiling? He could only hope.

_Don't leave, there's still time. Angie, stay here with me. I want to be with you. I NEED to be with you. Please, please don't leave... _Shawn opened his mouth to let the words flow, let her know his real thoughts, but he couldn't.

_I hate your dad. _The college boy was lost in his thoughts. He watched Angie's perfect lips move, her perfect eyes sparkle, and her perfect face move- _When will I see your perfection again?-_ but he heard nothing other than his own mind. _I hate what he's doing to us. _Angela paused, looking as if she was biting back a sob.

Shawn found his hand going up to his girlfriend's cheek, gently wiping tears from her face. She closed her eyes for a minute and then continued speaking. Or, as Shawn perceived it, moving her mouth. _You can tell him you don't want to go! Don't you love me?_

The cocoa-skinned girl continuously spoke and spoke, not stopping. She could sure talk a lot. Shawn liked that, too. She could keep up when he was talkative, and not just listen. _Are we even gonna talk anymore? _He thought he heard her say they would talk every day- or was that him- but everybody knew how hard long-distance relationships could and would be.

His vision went black. Only a moment later did the boy realize that it was because he shut his eyes to fight tears and block the situation. However, he quickly forced them open again. Even for that one second without Angela, Shawn's heart started pounding. He felt lost and alone. What just happened?

The young man interrupted his girlfriend's lip movements. He had no clue what she was saying, but he had to but in right then. He needed to say it before his thoughts told him otherwise.

"Never say goodbye," he choked. "Never, ever," he repeated, too quiet for her to hear. There was so much more he wanted to say, but couldn't put it into words. In those three he said, Shawn was trying to tell Angie that they didn't have to say goodbye, because she could stay with him forever. She didn't have to leave. He would love her forever.

Angela didn't seem to get it. She said three very famous words in response. "I love you."

They hugged, and Shawn watched as Angie walked out the glass door for the last time. He stood there for a moment, just waiting for it to be like a scene from a movie, where she came dashing back in, exclaiming that she could never leave 'd hug, kiss, and be together for eternity.

_Make it like a movie, make it like a movie... Come on Angie, let this be a movie. _He had his eyes fixated on the door, mouth open slightly. In his moment of hope, Shawn forgot all aspects of himself: swallowing, even breathing. His face began to redden and his tongue became dry. _Hurry up, Angela Moore. Don't make me wait. Don't make us wait._

Someone touching him snapped Shawn back to reality. He drew in a silent, sharp breath and swallowed in surprise. He didn't budge, though. Behind him was the voice of the hand on his shoulder: his best friend, Cory Matthews.

"Shawn, don't freak out."

Everything was just a blur from there. _Angela's not coming back. _Shawn remembered saying something, then soon found himself in his apartment. He sat on his bed, the lights off.

_Angie, why didn't you come back?_

The college boy smacked his head into his hands, slouched over. There was knocking at the door, but he stayed where he was.

"Go away," he'd murmur. The person on the other side of the door didn't hear him. The simply kept shouting: "Shawn, it's Cory," or "Shawn, it's Topanga," or "Shawn, open up!" None of them had Angela's voice.

Soon enough, the shouts from the door weren't audible to Shawn. That was because he was either sobbing or Writing stuff down in his poetry book.

No matter what, Shawn couldn't think he had a good poem. He screamed, ripping out page after page every time he tried to write something, balled it up, and threw it across the room.

Nothing seemed right without Angela.

_You need to stay. You can't leave._

_You promised._


	2. Chapter 1

_**NOTES: I do not own Boy Meets World or any of its characters. I do love the show, yes, but sadly, that's it..**_

_**Thanks for my first review, michkk2010!**_

_**Chapter One**_

_That's cool, but if my friends ask where you are I'm gonna say: She went down in an airplane, Fried getting suntanned, Fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand! Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes..._

Shawn looked out his apartment window, watching as the stars brightened and dimmed continuously. He ran a hand through his dark hair, the gears in his mind already turning to write a poem for a literary magazine. He reached for a medium-sized, blueish notepad- Shawn had long-since used up the tan book Topanga had given him so many years ago. Engraved on the hard cover, it read in a darker blue: ಬರೆ. The guy didn't know the language, but he looked it up on Google Translate, and found out that it was... Kannada? He didn't know anything about the culture or language, but he discovered 'ಬರೆ' meant 'write'.

"The artist raises his worn hand... Nah.." Shawn scribbled out what he was starting to write while whispering it. "A dabble of diamond, splatters on the page... No..." Cross out. "Strung up by the seams... Not a chance." Scratch-out. "I go to the glass, a looking glass, it seems. Not a mirror, but a reflection of me..." The grown man sighed, smacking a hand to his head. Where was his muse?

As Shawn turned to head back to his couch and brainstorm there, he almost threw the notebook across the room. "Crap!" He glanced to the digital clock below his TV. 7:30. Alex was going to be there at eight! And Shawn told her he'd cook! The boy ran into the kitchen and skidded to a stop in front of his fridge. He swung the door open and began scavenging for stuff. Milk... Soda... chocolate... Nothing to make a meal. A frustrated growl escaped from his throat.

Just as he went to close the white door, something caught his eye. Did he seriously leave paper in his fridge? He almost laughed at himself, snatching the thing. Much to his surprise, it was a laminated, orange menu. 'Arnie's TakeOut: The best in town!' Shawn quickly skimmed through the selection they offered. Chicken, noodles, pot roast. _Okay, this can work... _He dialed the number listed at the top right of the menu.

"Arnie's TakeOut, what can we get you?"

The doorbell rang. Luckily, Shawn had just set out the meal he 'made' and lit the candles. He was a cheesy romantic on the first date, because a lot of girls liked that crap. And, in case anyone was wondering, girls liked guys that could cook, too. When Shawn cooked, he heated up chicken nuggets. He'd still say he could cook, though.

The man darted to the door, opening it to reveal a stunning girl. She had long, wavy blonde hair trailing down to her waist and brilliant aqua eyes. For the night, the woman was dressed in a slimming rose-pink dress coming a few inches short of her knees, two-inch pink heels, and a hairband with a rose near the side. Just the sight of her took her date's breath away; she was gorgeous.

"Alex, hey." Shawn reduced his tone to a low, attractive voice that got any woman to melt. Plus, he turned on the 'eyes'. A few of his guy friends always envied that Shawn could get any girl with just his eyes. The guy didn't have a clue what he did, but he could make sure he did it.

Alex folded her arms and studied Shawn. "So, handsome, gonna let me in?" She winked.

He stepped to the side and let the pretty lady walk in. "Dinner's in the kitchen, if you wanna eat."

The blonde giggled and strutted past him so she was now on his right side. "Depends... What did you cook up, chef?"

"Well, there's salad," Shawn knew skinny girls liked salad, "and then, we can have pasta, fruit, fish, or virtually anything else."

"You do know-"

"No meat, of course. I couldn't forget."

Alex grinned and kissed him on the cheek before finding her way to the kitchen. A goofy smile painted across his lips and he followed her. Tonight seemed like it was gonna be a pretty good night.

Dinner finished pretty quickly, because the two wanted to go into the living room. Shawn flicked on some LifeTime movie and dimmed the lights. Alex shot him a playful glance. They started at each other for a moment before leaning into kiss.

The pair kissed for no longer than thirty seconds when a phone went off. Mr. Hunter slouched away with a groan. He snatched his phone off the coffee table.

"Who's callinnggg?" Alex teasingly whined.

"Work..."

"Now?"

Shawn nodded and answered. "What?" he asked with contempt. "Get to the point, Sandy... Seriously? It's nine at night. I thought my hours were over for the day... Goodbye- How much?... What do I get to do, again?... Yes, I heard you, tell me again... Where?... Fifteen minutes." He hung up the phone and gazed sympathetically at Alex.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I've gotta go do some work for the NYT."

"When?"

"Well... I've gotta go now."

Alex sighed and rose from the couch, grabbing her purse. "Tomorrow?"

Shawn began to usher her out the door. "Sorry, no."

The girl frowned. "When are we gonna meet again?"

"Never, sorry." The boy shrugged as he said the rude statement so casually. Before Alex had a chance to respond, he closed the door on her face. He could hear sobbing through the door, but it wasn't anything new.

The man walked through his apartment back into his room. He pulled open a drawer from his nightstand and pulled out a little notepad and pen. Under a list of names, he wrote: _Bubbly Blonde - Alex. _See, Shawn kept a record of every girl he went out with in the past year. He had a code with himself- never have a second date, never date a girl with the same name as an ex. To be fair, though, he refreshed the list every year.

It was May, and some highlights from the year's list included: _Nerdy Brunette - Minnie_, _Vicious Blonde - Jamie, Ditzy RedHead - Candace, _and _Short Black-Haired Chick - Lola. _The list ranged from all kinds of names, personalities, and memories, and Shawn was pretty proud of it. He had a new girl almost every two or three nights.

Remember when he had that two-week dating policy? Shawn thought that was childish and stupid. Why date someone for two weeks, and then break up with them? A day was much better. That way, he couldn't become attached to them. If he went with the two-week plan, there was a chance he could bond with them, and then they wouldn't break up, and they'd end up leaving him and breaking his heart. Now, Shawn got to be the one breaking hearts before they could break his. Like Angela. He drew in a sharp, cold breath. _Angela._

_Models, _Shawn snapped himself back to reality. He had to get to work. The guy re-fixed his hair and reapplied cologne. Then, in the nice outfit he was already in, grabbed his poetry book, hopped on his motorcycle, and left.

The fairly giddy guy had stopped his recurring thoughts about Angela once again, and pulled into the parking lot lit by street lamps. At the door stood a short woman with ginger hair going to hr ears and rectangular glasses.

"Mr. Hunter!" she shouted to him. "Hurry, hurry!"

"Chill, Sandy." 'Mr. Hunter' urged. "Got here as fast as I could." He walked past Sandy, who remarking about his nickname for her. She preferred to be called by her real name, Sandra. "I'll try to remember, Sandy," he said before walking through the revolving doors and into his office. A slip of paper read off the room number he was supposed to go to.

Following the instructions, Mr. Hunter soon found himself in a room where four women were stretching in front of a green screen. They perked up with him coming in, each beautiful starlet waving at him.

"Okay, beautiful ladies, I'm your photographer, Shawn Hunter." He clapped his hands together. "And, before you ask, I am single and ready to mingle." The 'ready to mingle' part was a lie, but he often told himself it was true.

"Sounds great, Mr. Hunter." One girl wearing a strapless white top and purple skinny jeans said. She had black hair to her shoulders and brown eyes.

"Call me Shawn," he said. Ripping a piece of paper from his poetry book, Shawn leaned against a wall. "Now, standard policy requires me to ask for your names and your chances of dating an extremely successful photographer and freelance writer." His eyes twinkled, and the girls giggled.

The one who spoke earlier said, "April Darling, and... 100%"

Another, dressed in a night-blue dress with hair dyed a deep red replied, "Christina Hudson, and only if he was you." A few of the girls whistled, laughing.

A girl wearing an off-the shoulder aqua dress added, "Katie Ryhmes. Very, very good."

The fourth girl, wearing a simple yellow spring dress ended their responses with, "Emma Stark. And... 99.9%"

Shawn winked at all of them, folding his arms. Although he acted like it was nothing, two of the girls were not available for him. April and Katie were names he'd already dated that year. Luckily, he could still go for Christina and Emma.

He grinned. "Who's ready for a photoshoot?"


	3. Chapter 2

_**NOTES: I do not own Boy Meets World or any of its characters. I do love the show, yes, but sadly, that's it..**_

_**Chapter 2**_

_She met a shark under water, Fell and no one caught her. I returned everything I ever bought her. Help me, help me, I'm all out of lies, And ways to say you died..._

The alarm went off, and Shawn sat up with his eyes still closed. He began to reach out to stop his alarm, but found himself taking a short tumble to the floor.

"Wh-What?" His eyes snapped open as he hit the hardwood floor. "Ow..." He rubbed the back of his head. From the hardwood floor, and the ceiling... Shawn could assume he was in his living room. When did he fall asleep there? _Oh yeah. _After photographing the models for an hour and a half, Shawn took Emma and Christina out to Aura, the local bar. He bought them a couple of drinks, and a Coke for himself.

Shawn may have been crazy with the girls, but he was never crazy with the alcohol- in fact, he hadn't touched the thing since... about ten years ago. After Angela left, it had been about a year. She was supposed to be returning the next day, and Shawn called to talk to her. They'd talked almost every day when she was away, as they promised each other. But, today, the eve of their reuniting, Angie wasn't answering his calls. Shawn tried all day, but to no avail.

/

His nerves were a little shaken, because he and Angela had a few fights throughout the year. He thought they were really nothing, and figured she thought the same. But, that night, all those fights came rushing back to him. Why wasn't she answering? Did she decide not to come back because she hated him? _Those fights... _Soon enough, Shawn had a major case of nerves and called Cory to come grab a drink with him. Topanga allowed her husband to go, and they went out to an Irish Pub.

After two small, semi-hard drinks, Cory cut himself off. He tried to stop Shawn as well, but he wouldn't listen. Shawn continued going on and on about how he was freaking out because Angela wasn't answering his calls.

"Maybe she found another guy? Or, she just hates me..." Shawn explained to Cory in-between sips.

"Shawn, you know that's not the case," Cory consoled him, always assuming the best. "Maybe she's so engulfed in packing and picking out the perfect outfit for you that she can't come to the phone. Maybe she caught an early plane and is on her way now..."

Shawn hung on his best friend's every word. He began to smile slightly, wanting to believe it. He tried, and started to succeed. But then, the bartender approached them. Wanting more business, he said, "Dude, you're friend's wrong. She's gone forever. From what I hear, she hates you." He slipped another drink to the depressed guy.

Shawn immediately took it and chugged it down. That simply, a stranger could crush his belief.

Cory sighed and tried to pry his best friend from the drink. "Hey buddy, you need to lay off. What's that... number five?"

"I don't know." Shawn was given another hard drink. Cory grabbed it away from him, and he grabbed the cold glass immediately, trying to win in back. Surprisingly, Cory was able to keep a good hold on it.

Well, he was able to... until he got socked. Mr. Hunter, in a fit of drunken rage, stood up and gave Cory a nice face-full of fist. The curly-haired man smacked onto the ground, drink spilling all over him.

Immediately, Shawn stumbled back. "Oh my God... Cory, I am so sorry!"

Cory focused on the ground as he picked himself up. "I can see why Angela's ignoring you, Shawn. Good luck catching a cab." He rung out his shirt and walked out of the bar.

Shawn stared after his best friend, mouth gaping open. He snapped himself from the gaze and, as he was about to ask for another drink, his phone vibrated. The guy answered it to see Angela had responded to him.

"Hey, Shawn! I am SO sorry I didn't answer earlier, I-"

Her boyfriend cut her off. "I don't wanna hear it. I don't wanna hear your excuses." His voice was slurred.

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then, Angie spoke again. "Okay... Then, I have something to tell you..."

"I bet I know."

"What? You know my dad's being transported to Spain?"

"What?"

"Okay, apparently you didn't know... I don't know if I should go with him, but I want to..."

The was fire in the guy's heart, now. She was not only cheating on him, she was moving again? "You said you'd come back. But, you know what? I don't want you back. I don't want you or your dad or anything. Go to Spain. You're nothing to me. _Nothing." _Before Angela could even be confused, Shawn hung up.

About an hour later, after Shawn had taken a cab home, it washed on his what he'd done. Hurt Cory and Angela. Right about then is when he decided to hop over to California the next morning.

/

Mr. Hunter curled up on the floor, head hurting. That was too much to remember, one of his most regretted moments. _We could be together now if it wasn't for me._

Trying to push the memories from his head but failing, Shawn got up and shuffled to the kitchen to grab himself a Soda. He chugged it down like he hadn't had the slightest sip of a drink in days. Chills went down his spine. That memory needed to get out of his mind. _We're over. I've moved on. _That was another thing the man had to constantly remind himself of that wasn't really true, even with as much as he wanted it to be.

There was a knock at the door. Shawn groaned, grabbing another Cola and walking to the door. "I told you, Emma, not interested!" He opened the door to see a young girl-no older than thirteen- with brown-red hair and bright eyes.

"Is Francesca here?" she piped up with a little hop.

Shawn cleared his throat, a bit confused. He took a sip of his soda. "Sorry... girl. I think you have the wrong adre-" He dropped his drink at the sight that just wandered to the little girl, looking down at a small sheet of paper.

A lady wore her blonde hair in a bun, worse a navy loose-fitting skirt to her knees, and a dark blue blouse. "Riley, it's the next room, I think." She sighed, seeing her daughter had already made someone answer the door to the wrong room. She looked up at Shawn. "My apologies, sir. We'll be going..." She grabbed the girl's hand and began walking away.

"Topanga?" he finally choked. The lady stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face Shawn.

"Excuse me?" She asked quietly.

Shawn said no more, and neither did Topanga. They just stared at each other for a few long moments. Riley looked between the both of them.

"Who's that, mommy?" Riley broke the silence.

Finally, the unknowing snapped in the blonde's head. "Sha..." She expressed no emotion. "Cory... get over here..."


	4. Chapter 3

_**NOTES: I do not own Boy Meets World or any of its characters. I do love the show, yes, but sadly, that's it..**_

_**I hope it's starting to become pretty interesting for you guys. (: This chapter is fairly lengthy.**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_My pride still feels the sting, You were my everything. Some day I'll find a love like yours..._

Shawn winced at Cory's name. He was here, too? _Of course, idiot. _He tried to feign a small smile as Cory walked over to Topanga, giving her a kiss on the cheek. The curly-haired guy looked over to Shawn, smiling. It was pretty obvious that he was confused.

"Is this Francesca's house?" His eyes searched Shawn and the room behind him. "Mr. Tony?"

Shawn honestly felt it was the perfect time to joke, like, _"Hey, dude. Don't recognize your own best friend?" _but, he decided against his instincts. They have a history of leading him to bad places. Simply, he shook his head. He was still quite stunned. _Should I say anything?_

Topanga did him the favor. "Cory... this is the wrong address. We didn't find Francesca's dad's address." What she said next was clearly a bit of a struggle for her. Shawn didn't seem to be the only one remembering his last encounter with a member of the Matthews family. "You remember... Shawn?"

Cory's mouth immediately dropped. "Hunter?" He searched Shawn's face. Unlike Cory, Shawn had changed quite a lot. His hair was darker- almost black- and he had a pretty nice beard, seeing he hadn't shaved in a few days.

He nodded to Cory. "In the flesh," he murmured. His smile had long-since faded, and he was almost trembling. Suddenly, his hand started hurting, as if it just freshly hit something. 'Something' as in Cory's face. Shawn tried not to wince as the memory of the night came rushing back.

Much to his luck, Cory still seemed to live by 'forgive and forget'. Instead of awkwardly walking away, he swerved past his daughter to hug Shawn. The man with black hair let out a small, surprised grunt. He looked to his old friend, unsure if they were still that: friends. From the looks- and feel- of it, they were.

"Who's Shawn?" Riley asks.

"How have you been? Oh, man, Shawn. We haven't seen you in, what, nine years?" Cory grinned ear-to-ear.

"Um..." Shawn studied the ground. "Ten, maybe?"

"Well, whatever it was, hey man!" He embraced Shawn again. "I can't help it, I'm a hugger!" he exclaimed in his Cory-way.

Shawn looked to Topanga to see her suppressing a smile and laugh. Honestly, even he couldn't help but to be amused with Cory's actions.

Once Cory gave Shawn his freedom again, both boys took a step away from each other. It was a bit awkward, but they were laughing through it, Cory more than Shawn.

There was silence before Shawn asked, "So... you guys wanna come in...?" He forced a bit of a friendly smile and stepped to the side.

Topanga nodded and cautiously walked past Shawn into his apartment. Riley stomped her foot angrily. "_Who _is Shawn?"

Cory looked down at his daughter. "Sorry, honey. Shawn was my best friend since we were young, probably about your age. We haven't seen him in ten years." Riley nods, and, pleased with the answer, follows her mother inside.

Cory sticks his hand in his pockets, smiling at Shawn. Shawn returns the gesture, although not feeling at ease. "You gonna come in?" He asks shyly.

The red-brown haired boy lets another laugh escape him. "Yeah," he says, teasingly punching his buddy in the stomach. "Once you put on a shirt." Shawn looks down to see himself bare from the waist up.

"Sorry man, just woke up," he chuckled. "Head on in and take a seat. I'll grab a shirt."

Cory is about to walk in, but Shawn sticks out his arm to stop him.

"What?" The burrow-head laughed quietly.

Shawn was serious again. "Why?" He knew Cory would understand what he meant. He knew Shawn always had trouble saying things frankly.

Cor shrugged. "Forgive and Forget. I know how hard that must've been for you. Our friendship lasted longer than the pain from the hit. Why should something so lengthy end by something so short?"

Shawn smiled slightly and went to hug Cory. He stopped him.

"Not yet, buddy. Put a shirt on first."

Shawn laughed and backed up. He tripped over the spilled coke can, causing him to stumble back some, causing more laughter, then ran off to his room to grab a shirt.

Quickly as he could, the guy hopped into new pants and slapped on a new shirt. He slid [wearing socks] into his bathroom to gel his hair and spray on some cologne. The boy slipped off his socks and darted back into the living room.

He hopped onto a recliner. As of the moment, Shawn was childlike. His friends were here, they still loved him, and they weren't too good for him. They weren't gone forever.

"So," he asked, "What brings you guys to LA?"

Topanga flattened out her skirt. She was sitting beside Cory on a love seat. "Well, we still live in New York City, just to say. Riley's friend Francesca went to live with her dad for a while. And, by some odds, he lived in California. So, she was missing her buddy so much that we had to come for a vacation." She glanced at her husband, who seemed happy as could be. "And, by some odds, two other best friends were reunited as well." She smiled.

Shawn leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs. "What have you guys been up to? Where do you work?"

Cory responded, "I'm actually a sixth-grade history teacher. Who knows, I might even pull a Feeny and follow one class up until college." He chuckled.

Topanga, always having a lot more to say, added more, "And I went to Brown's and became a part of their law firm. In other words, I'm a lawyer. Other than jobs, Cory and I enrolled Riley in some acting classes. She's always such a drama queen around the home, we had to put her somewhere to release all of her energy. Over Christmas we went back to the Matthew's house and had a great stay there. And... what else? Ha, there's so much to tell, and I'm only trying to pick the big things."

"Oh! Eric has a fiancé!" Cor piped.

If Shawn had been drinking any soda, he would've had a spit-take on the spot. "What? Seriously? You're kidding!"

"No! Her name is Beth, and she's a rancher."

"Narly," Shawn chuckled.

Topanga clapped her hands together and looked over to the black-haired man. "Any special girl we should know about right now?" She smiled kindly.

He pondered the thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Nope. Just me, myself, and I."

The woman nodded in an understanding manner. "Oh, okay. I thought you might have found your new woman, or got back with Ange-" She stopped in her tracks as Shawn turned his head to the side and swallowed hard, trying not to express his emotional pain. "Oh, sorry..." she whispered. Topanga and her husband exchanged a worried glance. 'Still that bad?" Topanga mouthed to Cory. He nodded.

A clatter from the kitchen drew the attention away from Shawn. "What was that?" The apartment attendee questioned.

Topanga noticed that her daughter wasn't in the living room. "Oh, God! Riley..." The blonde hurried into the kitchen. Cory groaned and rose from his seat.

"I apologize in advance for the mess she's caused," he joked. His friend, still strained from Topanga's Angela comment, offered a weak smile and shuffled into the kitchen.

"Let's go see what you're little monster did," he forced the funny quip. Cory could tell he was still upset, but he laughed.

"Agh, Cory!" Topanga screamed. "Look what she did!" Cor and his friend skidded into the kitchen to see Cory and Topanga's daughter sitting on the floor, centered by spilled milk, broken eggs, fallen chairs, and crumbled paper, eating a chocolate bar.

Despite his funk, Shawn literally cracked up. Topanga alternated from telling Cory and Riley to clean up the mess to groveling and apologizing to Shawn.

"I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, _so _sorry. I should've been watching her- Ugh, this is a disaster!" The man watched her, eyes sparkling with amusement. He let her finish before uttering a word.

Although he wasn't a parent, he did realize that Topanga was a distressed mother. He smiled, saying, "Chill, Topanga. Looks better than it normally does, anyway. Plus, I needed to lay off the chocolate." He patted his stomach. Really, Shawn never honestly ate too much junk food, so it was about time the chocolate was put to good use.

The mother's eyelids fluttered down as she focused on the floor, giggling in the breathy way girls do.

Shawn walked over to his best friend and his daughter. "Cor, you don't have to clean it up. You're a guest, remember? Take Riley into the other room if you want, so she can finish her chocolate. I think I have some more stashed away if you want any."

Cory shrugged at first, but then leaned in and whispered to Shawn, "You have more Chocolate?"

"Uh-Huh," Shawn whispered back. "What kind do you want?"

"Twix? Please?" His friend sounded almost like a puppy dog.

"You got it. Take the little food monster and your wife into the other room and I'll give you some."

Cory did as he was told, and when he returned to the room, Shawn had climbed up on his cabinet and was sorting through a storage of sweets at the top of his fridge. The burrowhead couldn't help but stare at his friend's bare feet on the nice wooden counters.

"Um... you wash the counter before you cook, right?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Such a housewife, Cor. Do you want your chocolate or not?"

"Sorry." Shawn threw him a Twix bar with the behind-the-back trick. Cory whistled. "So, what's up in Los Angeles?"

The man jumped down from the counter. "Eh, not too much. A little dating here and there... partying... Oh, and I work as a freelance journalist and photographer for the Los Angeles Transcriber, a literary magazine."

"Really? So, you're a published writer? That explains the nice apartment."

"Knew it all along, didn't you, Cor?"

"What can I say, I'm a physic?"

"More like psycho."

The two boys laughed for a minute before Shawn herded his best friend out of the room so he could clean up. Once it was only him in the room, Shawn grabbed some paper towel, hosed it down, and got to work with the milk and sticky eggs.

The TV was blaring from the other room, so Shawn assumed the happy family was being, well... happy. However, within the next few minutes, someone strolled into the kitchen.

"Hi Mr. Shawn," said Riley. He looked up to the little girl and smiled.

"Hey, Riley. You don't have to call me Shawn, by the way. Makes me sound like I'm old. Just Shawn is fine."

"Okay, Shawn. Watcha doing...?" She skipped over to him, studying his hand scrub the floor.

"Cleaning the kitchen. What about you?"

"Nothing. No offense, but I'm bored."

Shawn looked over to the young girl. "Bored? Well, I know something you can do..."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Clean the floors?" He winked. Riley rolled her eyes, waving the idea away. "Do you like singing?" The girl nodded eagerly. "Do you know the song Drops of Jupiter?" The girl shook her head. Shawn bit his lip. "Hm... I guess I have some lyrics that you can make a song with."

Riley clapped. "Really? So cool!" Shawn reached for the tan book that had somehow transported from his room to the middle of the kitchen floor in Riley's wave of messiness. He flipped it open to a page. It was a pretty basic poem, one of his first ones in the book. Personally, he wasn't too big a fan of it. The poem was standard-issue, but would make decent lyrics.

_In the morning, the sun is gold._

_All that is good comes out_

_And basks away from the cold._

_But in the night, _

_The moon is silver_

_The moon swoops around._

_It encases in a cloud of darkness,_

_And returns the snow._

_Then the sun comes,_

_And then the moon._

_It's a battle of the_

_Universe,_

_Never to start,_

_Never to end._

Why did Shawn think of this? Multiple times, he tried to turn his poems to songs, but never succeeded. Might as well give Riley a try, right? He handed her the book. "Just work on those words for now."

The girl began to dance around the room repeating lines to make them sound good in a song. "In the morning, the sun is gold... In the morninngg, the sun is goldddd, IN THE MORNING, THE SUN IS GOLD! ... All that is good comes outttttt..."

Shawn eventually got lucky enough to tune out her screeching. He started humming a song he didn't recognize, scrubbing the floor and picking up trash.

It was hard work, cleaning up Riley's aftershock. He had no clue that one girl could cause so much destruction so quickly. _One of those moments I'm thankful I don't have kids, _Shawn thought to himself. His apartment was large enough to support a family, and he didn't keep it ship-shape, but Shawn couldn't imagine having to clean these types of messes up every day. He probably wouldn't be able to keep up, anyway, with all of his writing jobs and photo shoots he had to do.

"_An eyeful of the lost Atlantis in the human soul, And a breath that fills my lungs with the air between two stars..._" Shawn's head snapped forward at the sound of Riley's new song. He scrambled around, accidentally setting his hand in a milky paper towel. Not that he noticed.

Riley still had the poetry book in hand, and was swaying side to side. "If right now, you Were to capture this elation In the framework of your mind, Or find tran... trans... transcen... trans-cen-dance... through these words..._" _Shawn quickly got to his feet and scooped her up. Riley let out a squeal of laughter.

As alarmed and off-set as he was, the man tried to keep a manner of playfulness with the young girl. "I thought I told you to stay on the one page, Riley!"

She giggled, flailing the book around in the air. "I wanted a different song! This one sounds pretty. Listen: You don't know it, but

Sometimes, I go to a hill that overlooks

the landscape's mask of city lights

For a sip of momentary grace-"

_On this brink of everything I know, I can gain _

_An eyeful of the lost Atlantis in the human soul, _

_And a breath that fills my lungs with the air between two stars. _The poem began to continue in Shawn's memory as he cupped a hand around Riley's mouth to shut her up. That poem, of course, was one connected with memories. The night he fumbled in front of everybody, when Cory made him read it aloud. But, those were distant memories. _Angie. _He bit his lip.

"How about you go back to your mom and dad now, girly?" He removed his hand and snatched the book. Only as he went to set Riley down did he notice the girl's mother standing in the doorway.

Topanga offered a feeble smile. Shawnie clenched his teeth, looking over to her. _Did she hear the poem? _Topanga, seeming to read his thoughts, gave a small nod. He winced.

"Riley, c'mon back to the living room," the blonde urged. Her daughter scuttled out, and her mother went to opposite way, towards Shawn. "You still have that book? I gave that to you for your birthday, a long time ago..."

"'Long time ago?'" He rolled his eyes, again masking his feelings with teasing. "So you're calling me old?"

"You know that's not what I meant!" she screeched, giving him a joking slap across the shoulder. The two grinned at each other, but the smiles soon faded. Instead of saying 'let's cut to the chase', Topanga just... cut to the chase. "Shawnie..." she whispered.

Shawnie turned away and pursed his lips. _Here it comes. _

"You still love her."

He shook his head and folded his arms. "I've moved on, Topanga. Probably had at least... fourteen? girlfriends this year."

"Two week policy again?"

"No," his voice quieted for the next part, "One day."

"Shawn!"

He turned back to the lady, eyes wide with hurt and pride. "I'm a writer and photographer. I move around a lot, no time for serious relationships. I get paid well, why waste it on someone else?" While saying these words, Shawn felt hallow. He honestly didn't need relationships, or someone else. What he needed was Angela.

Topanga stayed quiet as she went in to give Shawn a hug. He didn't hug her back. Instead, Shawn just hung his head.

Topanga released after a little bit. She leaned towards his ear and whispered, "You should call her, Shawnie." And she walked back into the living room.

Shawn stared after her. Eventually, he regained enough strength to move again. He went over to the fridge and took out a soda. He chugged down about half of it, and poured the rest in the sink. Then, he crushed the can and leaned against his counter.


	5. Chapter 4

_**NOTE: I do not own Boy Meets World, nor any of its characters. I wish ):**_

_**Chapter 4**_

_She'll think I'm Superman, Not super minivan. How could you leave on Yom Kippur?_

The rest of the night went pretty badly for Shawn. To say it quickly, Topanga sent Cory to talk to his best friend about Angela, then the couple talked to him about it for two hours, and at the end of the night, Riley ended up having made a mess of the living room. Shawn's guests left upon their host insisting, and Shawn stayed up the rest of the night cleaning the destructive daughter's messes. In even shorter terms, he wanted a drink. Luckily, the man had enough willpower to restrain himself.

Around Five AM, Shawn's cell phone started ringing. The half-asleep maid-man answered it without even checking who it was.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Shawn?" Topanga's voice was on the other line.

"What?" He asked with contempt.

"I... just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"At five in the morning?"

"Sorry. Jet lag."

Shawn hung up and resumed his cleaning. Within the hour, he received another call. This time, he checked it. Work.

"Sandy, baby!" he tried to sound awake, but the drowsiness made him sound a little looney. "Talk to me."

Sandra didn't respond right away. She had to get what was happening first. When she did, or at least settled that the answer was simply: Shawn, his boss said, "Um, yeah. Hi. I need you to come down to the office now."

"Now? Is the office even open this early?"

"It's open twenty-four hours a day. You know this. Anyway, I need you down here now. Make yourself presentable, slap on some nice clothes, and pack a suitcase. We need you to fly out to Yorkshire."

"As in England?"

"Sorry for such short notice. We already have plane tickets. The editor of the paper wants their exotic LAT theme again. You know, the one that didn't end up going through the publisher? He wants to give it another go and send you out there this time."

"Free vacation? I'm in."

"Well, of course you are. You have to be. Just get yourself over to the office, please."

"You got it." Shawn chimed. He jumped up from the mess and scurried over to his room. First and foremost, he splashed water on his face. Needed to wake himself up. Once the man went through the rest of his duties- changing, packing, hygiene- he dialed up the maid service and told them he had a mess for them to clean up. Upon hanging up, he wondered why he didn't call the maids earlier. _No time to think over that now. _He snatched his camera, pen, and three notepads [Topanga's gift to him, New Notepad, and ladies list] and pulled his bag of stuff down to the elevator.

The elevator doors opened instantly, as usual, and he stepped into the box. _Are there elevators in England? _Having a bit of a drowsy brainfart, Shawn flipped out his iPhone 5 and asked Siri, "Does England have elevators?"

Siri replied, "Would you like to do a google search for this?" Basically, he face-palmed. Siri was more for fun than helping. He'd ask her stupid questions in his small amount of freetime, between work and women.

_Sure, a google search... _the man thought to himself as he pressed the button saying 'Google Search'. Results quickly popped up. He clicked on the Wikipedia link. With skimming, he learned that not only does England have elevators, but they call them _lifts. _

Realizing just then that he seriously went through all that to find out about elevators, Shawnie couldn't help but laugh at himself.

He pulled into work in his pickup truck. Normally, Shawn would take him Harley anywhere, but he couldn't bring his suitcase along, then. So, he loaded his luggage and Harley in the back of the truck.

"You're bringing a Harley to Europe?" Sandra asked him the moment she saw it.

Shawn shrugged. "It's a private plane, isn't it? I can bring whatever I want." Sandra waved away the thought and urged him to step inside.

She led him to her office. "Sit there," she commanded, taking a seat of her own opposite Shawn. Once he was seated, she began rapidly speaking. "Okay, so here are your plane tickets. You'll need them to get past airport security so you can board the plane. We'll take care of the bike and your luggage; you worry about getting to the plane. It leaves in three hours, and then the next plane will need the port. That's why it has a specific departure time. In this case," she handed him a small denim bag, "will be the address of the hotel you'll be staying at. They'll know who you are, just show them your ID. Also, you'll find the locations where you're supposed to be having photo shoots and at what time. Then, we want you to go freelance and explore the sights. Take lots of photos and write lots of stuff. You'll be in Yorkshire for a week. Then, the plane will come around and-"

"Take me back home," Shawn cut in.

"Wrong. It'll take you to your next destination. Paris. You'll stay there for two days. No set photoshoots, just wander around. Then, you'll go to Florence, Italy. You'll stay there for a week and three days. You have a lot of jobs there. After those three places, _then _you go home."

Shawn say back in his seat. "I like this plan. So, I get to do whatever I want?"

"When you're not working."

He ran his finger along the side of the desk, a goofy smirk creeping across his lips. "And... in these places, there are girls... International girls. With accents? That are single?"

"Yes, yes. That is true. Don't get too distracted by them, okay? You have work to do."

Shawn's smirk was fully charged now. He was no longer tired.

He hopped up from his seat, grabbing the case and running for the door. "Well, what are we waiting for? I've got a plane to catch!" Sandra grunted and followed after him.

"Anything to drink, sir?" The flight attendant stood in front of Shawn, wearing the classic navy blue outfit. She had black hair with brown streaks, which was curled and fell perfectly down her shoulders. "Soda, lemonade, water, alcohol..." She pulled up a notepad, ready to take his order. "Also, we've now reached maximum altitude, so you may use your electronic devices."

"Please, call me Shawn." He looked up from writing down some poetry to the beautiful woman. "Instead of a drink," he began, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows, "how about you tell me your name?"

The flight attendant giggled and rolled her eyes. "_Mrs. _Taylor Morris."

Shawn's eyes fluttered. "Mrs.? As in 'married'?"

She held up her left hand, which had a sparkling diamond on her ring finger. "Indeed, Shawn."

"Nice rock," he said.

"Thanks. Five carats."

"Narly. But... I don't see your husband around..." he winked.

Taylor rolled her eyes and put a hand up to his face, shoving him back. "Dream on, loverboy." Then, the girl strutted back to her cabin.

As she left him, Shawn shouted after her, "Pepsi, please!" He rested back against the plush couch-seat and propped a knee up to serve as a table as he wrote again.

The flight went rather smoothly. It didn't seem to be a long while between departure and landing, but that might've been because Shawnie was busy either sleeping, flirting, or writing. Although he did have a good time on the plane, he got out of that flying aircraft as fast as possible, one thought on his mind.

He wasn't thinking: 'Yorkshire, here I come!' or 'International travels!' or 'Greatest job ever!'. Oh, no. _Girls. British, Yorkshire girls. _Every time the thought crossed his mind, Shawn almost wanted to squeal with joy. Foreign girls. And foreign girls were always hot.

He scrambled into the light of Yorkshire. The sights were beautiful, but he found the girls better. A few chicks strolling past him, having just landed, caught his eye. Before the staff could even hand him his luggage, the ladies' man was stopping them.

It was a pretty sorry sight. He began to sweet-talk the girls, complimenting them and remarking about how single he was. They all laughed mockingly and passed him.

_What just happened? _Shawn asked himself. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his head. When was the last time somebody did that to him? _Never...? _

"Mr. Hunter," a voice snapped him back to reality. Shawn turned on his heels to see the flight attendant standing near the wall, smirking. "Your bag is being delivered to your hotel room and your motorcycle is going to be waiting fro you in the first floor parking lot. "

He nodded. "Say... I've never been to Yorkshire before, and I'd love to have some company while exploring it..."

"You don't give up, do you?" She snickered. "I thought you'd be a little let-down that you just got stood up by three girls."

"Only fuels me, baby."

"Get lost."

"You're not very fun," Shawn remarked with a sly grin. He scooped up his bag with all of his stuff in it and faced away from her. He began to walk to the left, but then stopped. He swiveled back to Taylor. "Um... which way's the parking lot?"

Mrs. Morris pointed in the direction opposite which he was going before. "That way. You can read the signs, you know. They're not in Chinese."

"Ain't nobody got time for that," he recited from the video circling around the pop culture world. Without another word, he departed from his lovely flight attendant. _She was totally into me._

He got down to the parking lot very easily, and walked over to his conveniently-parked bike. _Good service here, _Shawn thought to himself. He hopped onto his motorcycle and began speeding through security and onto the streets of England.

Shawn's bike was a real beauty. At least, he thought so. With the good income he got from being a freelance writer, Mr. Hunter bought himself a custom Harley. It was white with black tires and handle grips, and here and there, a red scratch-looking design streaked across his beloved bike. His helmet didn't match the cycle because, well, he didn't have a helmet. Figured he didn't need one.

The hotel wasn't too shabby. I fact, it was great. Not as big as Shawn's apartment, but he was fine with that. The main room of his five-star dormitory was already bigger than the trailer he lived in as a kid- and nicer. Henceforth, he loved it.

_British babe hunting time, _he thought with a grin. Just as the man was about to go ready himself, he butt vibrated. Or, more likely, his phone vibrated in his back pocket.

'No girls yet. Photoshoot in ten minutes, lobby of hotel next door.' Mr. Hunter's jaw dropped as he received a text from Sandra. _Is she here or something? _he asked himself, cautiously looking around the room.

'Buzz kill,' Shawnie texted back before storing his phone in his pocket and beginning his trek down towards the lift. _Didn't even get to shave, _he thought grumpily. But, at least he could rock the unshaven look. To perk himself up, the man reminded himself that he was gonna go photoshoot some hot girls right now.

Shawn soon landed on the ground floor of his hotel, camera and notepads in hand. He strolled past the front desk, out the doors, and into the lobby of the hotel to his left. It was the only hotel beside him, considering a mall was to the right. So, it was only common sense to go left.

Upon walking in, Shawn discovered that he must've not been as early as he thought. People seemed to already be waiting for him, ushering him into a room and closing the door behind him. Screams were echoing outside, like the kinds you hear at a concert. The doormen had been murmuring and frowning when Shawn walked in, before they locked him in a room.

Now, the man stood against a wall and surveyed the surroundings. A greenscreen, doors labeled 'wardrobe', 'makeup', and 'props', and a table in the corner of the room. Shawn was only alone for another moment until someone met up with him. It was a balding man in a tuxedo that was way too tight over his chubby self. He face was cherry red, and he looked as if he were fixed in a permanent frown.

"Shawn Hunter?" he asked with a rugged, British voice.

"In the flesh," Shawn Hunter didn't realize how excited he really sounded. But, there were women involved, so...

"Very well. I'm Martin Cruizer, the hotel manager. This has to stay on the down-low, okay? Lots of people out there. They want in. Once you finish, they might ask you lots of questions. You are to walk back to your hotel through the back entrance. Don't let them touch your camera."

Shawn laughed at how serious this man sounded. "So, am I giving the First Lady a photoshoot or something?" he winked. The man just growled and stormed out.

The boy's playful manner suddenly faded when he saw who he was photographing. How did he know? Well, it's pretty obvious when a worldly famous British boy-band of five dudes strolls in that they'll be the ones getting pictures taken.

As much as it irritated him that he was forced to take pictures of guys, Shawn wouldn't be rude enough to act like it. At least he was getting paid.


	6. Chapter 5

_**NOTE: Sorry I've taken so long to post another chapter! D:**_

_**Chapter 5**_

_That's cool, but if my friends ask where you are I'm gonna say: She was caught in a mudslide, eaten by a lion, got run over by a crappy purple Scion. Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes..._

Shawn's week in Yorkshire passed extremely slowly after his first-day encounter with One Direction. _I thought this was gonna be so much better... _He thought angrily to himself. In the remaining six days, he had taken photos of the surroundings and jotted down notes about his experiences.

Finally, on his last day, Shawn did get to do a photoshoot of women. This normally would've been great, but, of course, the photography session was for the cover of two friend's invitations. To their shared wedding. And, their soon-to-be-husbands were in the photos as well. Talk about an anti-flirt zone.

So, if you hadn't guessed, Shawn had to almost restrain himself from sprinting onto that plane leading him out of England. He couldn't wait to be lifted off the ground and be transported to Paris. The man was so flustered, not even the thoughts of French girls could calm him down. After all, he didn't have too good an experience with foreign girls from Yorkshire.

"Taylor!" Shawnie leaned back in his seat, folding one leg over the other. His eyes were lit with amusement upon seeing his ever-so-lovely flight attendant emerge from the cabin after his departure.

Mrs. Taylor Morris heaved a sigh and walked over to Shawn. "Well, look who it is," she snapped tartly. The man simply laughed and patted the seat beside him.

"Take a seat, darling," he encouraged her. Taylor flaunted her ring again, but Shawn simply waved it away. "I'm not trying to make out with you... now. Just happy to see a familiar face."

Taylor pursed her lips in hesitation before sitting down beside Shawn. "Fine... one wrong move though, and I'll knock your precious lips for kissing clean off your pretty face, understood?"

"Thanks for the compliments," Shawnie winked.

Mr. Hunter walked down the streets of the famous Paris, camera and notepad in hand. His eyes darted from place to place, from girl to girl. There was so much to see, too much for two days. Well, counting today, it was two. He looked down at his watch. In America [Shawn hadn't set his watch to foreign time] it was currently lunchtime. Shawn hadn't the slightest clue of Parisian time, but people were still milling around the streets, so he figured it safe to say he could sit down at cafe.

The man took his seated and was treated with almost immediate service. This would've been great if his waitress had spoken English. He tried to indicate what he wanted by motioning, but she just didn't get it. He didn't speak French; she didn't speak English. So, they were at a standstill. Finally, he had to pick himself up from the cafe and just leave. _Shouldn't they have a translator there or something? I shouldn't have to know French. _Just for a small moment, Shawn wished he hadn't fallen asleep in his middle school French class every day- Wait, was it French? Latin? Spanish? Mandarin? He didn't have a clue.

He walked along the streets once more until he found the address to his hotel. Even with just the first step, it was obvious how much the hotel would actually cost if he were paying for just one night- let alone two.

"Shawn Hunter?" Shawnie swiveled his head to face the man behind the counter who just called him over. The man, noticing he got a response, continued. "Please travel here check- TO check in." It was obvious he was struggling with English, but he was doing better than Shawn with French. "Also... your boss talk- told me to give this to you."

Mr. Hunter took the book the counterman had held out to him. "ENGLISH - FRENCH TRANSLATION GUIDE". Just his luck. If only he'd had the book back at the cafe; he could've ordered something. _Plus, that waitress was __**fine**__._


End file.
